


no holding back

by synonym4life



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blow Jobs, Harry choking on Draco's dick, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-10-25 18:29:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10769940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/synonym4life/pseuds/synonym4life
Summary: The thing that Draco liked about Potter was that he didn’t have to hold back.(Literally just wanted to write Harry choking on Draco's dick and loving it)





	no holding back

**Author's Note:**

> First posted to my tumblr @synonym-for-life
> 
> Shameless porn. Not even sorry. Never sorry.

The thing that Draco liked about Potter was that he _didn’t have to hold back._

Potter, the hero that he was, was ready to just…just _take_. Not only ready. He _loved_ it. He loved it when Draco lost control; he loved it when Draco was too far gone to worry about anyone else’s pleasure but his own. He loved it when Draco squeezed too tight, bit too hard, fucked too roughly too fast. When Draco crossed that threshold between pleasure and pain and Potter found only pleasure. Pleasure and satisfaction, because he, only he, could make Draco Malfoy absolutely _lose it_.

Draco knew that was exactly what was about to happen in a matter of minutes. His mind was already half lost and it’s been like that since he’d pinned Potter against the wall. Potter, whose mouth was hot against his ear, just the sound of his heavy breathing ghosting his earlobe making Draco groan. Draco’s lips found the ones below him, open, wet, wanting. Tongues entwined, Potter’s strong fingers buried in his hair pulling him in, in, impossibly deep into the hot, hot mouth. All thoughts flew from his head, lips against lips, rough, demanding, taking everything there was to take and still not enough, _never enough_.

Thighs rubbing against thighs, hips pushing into hips, every contact of their bodies was arson set right to his soul. His hand went for Potter’s fly. He couldn’t wait, he could never wait. He wasn’t a patient man to begin with and when it came to Potter, his patience ran legendarily thin.

His finger grazed slowly against the bulge in Harry’s jeans going for the zipper. ‘’No.’’ Potter’s lips had moved from his own and he whispered into the damp air between them ‘’I want to taste you.’’  He felt himself being swiftly turned around, his back suddenly hard against the stone wall, Potter already on his knees. The sly fucker.

What a sight he made. The Saviour of all that was good and holy, on his knees waiting, _wanting_ to get his mouth fucked. Hair a mess, mouth open, The Chosen One looking at him with those heavy green eyes that hammered him in place, slowly lowered his head to the still clothed cock before him. The mouth moved against the fabric half sensually, half aggressively letting out a sound that was filthier than any curse ever said by man. Draco felt his head bang against the wall, a guttural sound leaving his lips. ‘’Fuck.’’

Those lips breathed sweet hot air through his trousers onto his cock. ‘’Fuck, Potter –‘’ His body was on fire, he needed that mouth _now_. ‘’Stop fucking stalling.’’ Draco took hold of the back of Potter’s head and pressed him into his crotch. ‘’You want this.’’ Draco whispered as Potter rubbed his face obscenely into his dick. ‘’ You fucking _crave_ it, Potter.’’

Potter’s self-control, as much as he loved demolishing Draco’s into pieces, wasn’t much stronger to begin with. His hands moved swiftly, unbuttoning the trousers letting them fall to the floor.

Draco always thought the sound of the belt hitting the ground was rather obscene, but it was nothing compared to the guttural sound he himself made when Potter pulled down his underwear and that sweet wet mouth of his enveloped his cock so tightly, so beautifully that Draco’s hips immediately twitched forward without control.

That was the thing about Potter. _He never held Draco’s hips in place. Ever._ Draco tried. He tried to hold back just to spite him, but they both knew who was winning this game.

The soft tongue swirled around the head, every now and then dipping into the slit. Potter licked the underside of his cock, slowly, tantalisingly, teasingly. Draco’s hand moved of its own accord. He took Potter’s jaw in hand parting his lips with his thumb coating it in saliva. He guided the lips onto his cock and pushed it further into the willing mouth. He caressed Harry’s cheek, covering it with streaks of his own spit urging him on.

So outrageously willing.

Potter’s eyes were fire when he stared intensely into the grey ones above him and Draco felt a shiver run up his spine. Then, a sudden shock of pleasure took over as Potter’s mouth closed around him dipping to the base of his cock taking him as far in as humanly possible. He thought he might come merely at the sound Potter made as the head of his cock hit the back of his throat. It was the one sound he’d be happy to hear for the rest of his life; Potter choking on his dick, taking him deep, making those fucking small sounds that made his hips twitch, his hands bury into the thick dark hair and guide Potter’s head roughly onto his cock over and over and _over_ again.

And Potter was winning, winning like he always did. Both of Draco’s hands were now deep in his hair, hips thrusting forward, every thrust quicker, rougher, deeper than the one before. And Draco was losing it, and he was looking down at those brilliant fiery green eyes that were daring him, urging him to just fucking _let go_ , and he was losing the battle, and _why_ exactly should he hold back it made no sense, and the sounds, god the _sounds_ Potter was making, the sounds _they_ were making. So fucking filthy and improper and _crude_.

And his mind was hazy, so his body took on a mind of its own, his hips mercilessly snapping forward until he was absolutely pounding into Potter’s mouth. Potter, whose hands were grabbing onto his thighs so hard, clutching at them so viciously, they will surely leave marks. Potter whose mouth was open, and wet and _choking_ and he just held on and _fucking took it._

It was all too much, he’d lost the game and it didn’t feel like losing at all, it never did. In fact it felt very much like winning when the tension from below his stomach mounted and consumed his entire body making him burn from the inside out, his hips now erratically snapping forward and then, without warning, the flood of pleasure that’s been building up was released in a wave of such overwhelming bliss that his body went completely stiff for a second before snapping hard one last time and he came so hard his vision went completely black. His knees buckled, and only for the support of those strong hands did he stay upright as he emptied himself down Potter’s throat, mercilessly, unforgivingly, brutally.

This is what Draco loved about Potter. Not only did he not have to hold back. He didn’t _want_ to hold back, he didn’t _need_ to. Because Potter was always willing, _needing_ to take it _._

**Author's Note:**

> Comments much appreciated! :)


End file.
